


So often do I need

by calerine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cake, Crack, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Schmoop, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, three-piece suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calerine/pseuds/calerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft/Anthea<br/>G-R, 10 genres</p>
            </blockquote>





	So often do I need

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to Gee, who needs to stop enabling me and write your own fic.
> 
> Oops, I forgot to do the formatting thingy. It's fixed now! :D

**angst**

After Reichenbach, Mycroft doesn’t speak or eat or sleep. Anthea learns from scratch, that she must knock before entering his office.

 

**au**

In one week, Mycroft manages to monopolise all the shops on his street as well as intimidate the vitner across the road into giving him a bottle of Szamorodni wine. Anthea curls up in his lap when he returns, feline smugness snug between her whiskers.

 

**crack**

CCTV records show Mrs Hudson scolding Sherlock furiously for causing John to fall ill from one of his stray experiments. Sherlock doesn’t manage to get even a word in for fifteen minutes. Both of them spend the next ten minutes (Mycroft supposedly ‘Engaged’), laughing themselves silly in his office.

 

**future**

When Mycroft retires, they set up a bakery in the countryside, using honey from Sherlock’s bees.

 

**first time**

“Sir,” she murmurs, bending to wake Mycroft from his doze. “Sir, I need you to appro-“ It is the first time he manages to catch her off guard. He kisses Anthea like a gentleman, sixteen thousand feet in the air and two hours from Istanbul.

 

**fluff**

After a thirty-seven hour workday, Anthea turns up with Mycroft’s favourite pastry. He smiles at her, all acute angles and exhaustion and lets her push him up against his desk, fingers tender against his skin.

 

**humor**

“Has my suit come back from dry-cleaning?”

“Which one, sir?” She is feeling particularly mischievous today.

“You know _exactly_ which one, Anthea.”

“Sir has _many_ suits, sir. In fact, sir seems to _only_ wear suits.”

“I will not have you adopting such boldness in these offices.” Mycroft snaps. He glares at his city, sprawled into the horizon.

When their reflections meet eyes, he is the one who grins first.

 

**h/c**

Anthea puts herself in the way of an assassination attempt. Mycroft holds her on a busy London sidewalk, his fingers so careful against her translucent skin.

 

**smut**

Getting Mycroft to lose his composure is one thing, but it is another kink of Anthea’s entirely to have him pressed deep inside of her while _still_ clad in his insufferable three-piece suit.

 

**ust**

Mycroft calls this ‘being alert’. Anthea pretty much thinks he’s being a right git. In the recording, Sebastian Moran moans. Mycroft clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She is suddenly light-headed.


End file.
